


The Convention - Cocktails in the Ballroom (Day 17: In formal wear)

by drownedinblissfulconfusion (tundraeternal)



Series: The Convention [17]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: 30 Day OTP Challenge, Ficlet, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-26
Updated: 2013-06-26
Packaged: 2017-12-16 05:35:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/858432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tundraeternal/pseuds/drownedinblissfulconfusion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>30-Day OTP Challenge</p><p>A succession of Cockles fics & ficlets, set at a fictional convention.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Convention - Cocktails in the Ballroom (Day 17: In formal wear)

**Author's Note:**

> Note: I do not personally know any of the people I'm writing about. As far as I'm concerned, these are fictional characters in some alternate universe, which exists someplace between our own and the French Drop universe, who happen to bear superficial resemblance to our boys (and girls). Their conversations, personalities, and innermost thoughts are generally extrapolated from plausible reality, occasionally made up from whole cloth.

They stand staring at each other across the length of the hallway, eyes raking each other’s bodies, drinking each other down. The dress code for tonight’s cocktail party is Black Tie, and Jensen could kiss whoever suggested it. Misha’s not playing by the rules, of course. When has he ever? So instead of a tuxedo he’s opted for plain trousers and a black vest over a gray shirt and silver tie. The vest fits him like he was born to wear it, shows off his toned arms and molded torso, and Jensen feels his breath coming short just from looking. 

He suddenly remembers that he’s meant to be getting ready to walk into a party, not ogling his--well, whatever Misha is. He gives a rueful grin and walks the twenty steps down the hall to where Misha and a few con staff are standing by the doorway. He places a hand on Misha’s waist and leans in to say hello. 

Misha turns to him and rests a hand on his shoulder, hot even through the fabric of his jacket and shirt. Or maybe it’s only his imagination and his own temperature rising as Misha closes in.

“For a scruffy Texan, you sure do clean up nicely,” Misha murmurs into his ear. 

“You look pretty slick yourself. I almost didn’t recognize you. No day-glo colors? You sure you’re feeling okay?”

They both startle then, as they each feel a giant hand clap them on the back. 

“Hey guys! Lookin’ good!” It’s a testament to their tunnel vision that neither of them noticed six and a half feet of Jared sneaking up. 

Before either of them has a chance to respond, though, a con volunteer opens the door. 

“Guys, it’s time! Come on in!” she chirps. 

* * * * *

Jensen is surprised at himself; he’s actually having a great time. The scotch might have something to do with it, but more likely it’s the fact that the fans tonight seem to be all reasonably normal people, or at least not likely to ask him creepy questions. So he’s finally started to relax and enjoy the party, even work the room a little bit. It’s why they’re here, after all. He doesn’t even have time to pay attention to what Misha is doing. Well, not much attention. He can hardly help it if his eyes are naturally drawn to the sexiest person in the room. At least he hides it well.

Or so he thinks. It’s nearly the end of the evening when he gets pulled aside for a chat by Jared. 

“Okay, spill. You and Misha. What’s going _on_ with you guys? You can hardly keep your eyes off each other!”

Jensen scrubs a hand over his face. “Shit, Jay, is it that obvious?”

Jared’s jaw drops. “You’re not gonna-- I mean it’s-- Are you saying what I think you’re saying?!”

Jensen puts a hand on Jared’s arm and turns them so they’re both angled to the wall so their voices can’t carry. “We, ah, we kind of got together. Last month at that con you skipped out on. And, so, now we kind of have a thing.”

“Kind of a _thing_? Man, I leave you alone for one convention and all of a sudden you and _Misha_ \-- Does Danneel know?” Jared glares at him accusingly.

“God, what do you think I am? Of course she knows!” Jared’s always been a little more conventional. ‘Til death do us part’ was a simple thing for him. Jensen really hopes he’s going to take this minor revelation in stride. 

“So,” Jared seems to be parsing the information. “She knows, and she’s okay? Like, really okay?”

“Yeah, really okay. We talked about it. I mean I called her before... anything, and she was so good. I mean she was actually enthusiastic about it. And then once we both got home and I told her it felt like maybe it wasn’t a one-time thing...” Jensen smiles in disbelief at the memory. “She wasn’t even surprised. She thought it was that obvious. I guess when they talk about someone knowing you better than you know yourself, that’s what they mean.”

Jared’s smiling now, and Jensen is awash with relief. 

“Thanks for telling me, man. Seriously.”

“Hey, brothers, right? I’m glad you’re cool with it.”

“I am totally gonna mock the shit out of Misha later.”

“Hah! Good. Knock him down a peg or two, it’s not good for him to let his ego get too big.”

“Yeah, if you don’t want him to think he’s hot shit, you better stop staring at him like you’re gonna eat him.”

Jensen flushes. “I do not do that.”

“Give me fifteen minutes and I’ll have videographic evidence that you do.”

“You better not.”

They fall into a companionable silence, leaning against the wall and watching the party wind up. 

It’s been a damn good day, thinks Jensen.


End file.
